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Summary: One nasty fever and too much medicine are all it takes for Din Djarin to finally admit what months of stolen glances and terrible flirting couldn't. The good news: you remember every word. The even better news: you've been waiting for him to say it.
Warnings: Fluff, medicine-induced honesty, Din being down bad, Grogu acting as emotional support, yearning, first kiss, established feelings, mild fever delirium, one (1) stubborn Mando.
Word count: 2.8k
Notes: My second fic for Din ever! Yay. Also, to everyone who sent me requests, I promise I am working hard on them! Once again, so sorry if some of the information is off canon or something. I have barely scratched the first season of the show.
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Miserable.
If Din Djarin could use one word to sum up the illness that was running its course through his exhausted body right now, it would be miserable.
He couldn’t remember the last time he was actually sick. He would sustain some grueling injuries more often than not, but this was something else.
His voice was hoarse, his muscles ached profoundly, and he swore he could feel this fever down to bones.
The Razor Crest felt remarkably humid, and Maker, all the beskar that covered Din’s body didn't help.
You’d done your best to take care of him, doting on him every chance you got, but that didn’t change how uncomfortable it was to be in a full suit of armour while he felt his absolute worst.
You knew Din was especially stubborn, but that didn’t deter you from trying to convince him to take off the beskar.
You’d managed to keep the ship cool, turning the temperature down to the point where you were past freezing, but your comfort was the last thing on your mind.
Taking care of a certain sick Mandalorian was first.
Trying to balance taking care of the child and doting on Din at the same time was a lot of work, but you were managing. Grogu seemed to understand that the usually menacing bounty hunter was a little under the weather right now.
Anytime you would bring Din medicine, water, soup, anything – little footsteps would follow tightly behind you.
The child babbled at your side when you placed a bowl of warm soup by the cot, worried about his dad.
“I know, honey,” you said softly while the child was looking up at you with his big, round eyes. His green ears tilted down slightly. “He’s not himself today, is he?”
In response, Grogu cooed and reached up to signal that he wanted you to hold him. You obliged of course.
You couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in your chest. It was almost cute seeing Din like this. A man usually so intimidating and reserved was now reaching out for you and the child, acting like he’d just been shot as he reached for the bowl of soup.
If you were completely honest, you liked being his medic. Especially when you had such a cute helper by your side.
You sighed, looking at the sick Mandalorian.
“That bad, huh?”
He groaned in response.
Even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew that behind his helmet, he couldn't have been smiling.
“Let’s let dad eat and rest, okay little one?” you said to the child in your arms. He made a small noise in agreement, and you grabbed a thin blanket before the two of you made your way outside.
Din had set the Razor Crest down in a quiet, forgotten stretch of space on a planet with no name that mattered since the two of you were in between traveling when he’d gotten sick.
It was beautiful here. Wide, open fields of grass and meadows. The wind was crisp and there was a river that quietly rippled nearby. A beautiful planet that was so peaceful and full of life.
As you wrapped the blanket around yourself, you watched the child play in the grass and wobble around. You smiled to yourself at the sight, your heart feeling warm again. You’d imagined a life like this before:
Just you, Din, and the child living a peaceful, quiet life off the grid.
You had a feeling it may have crossed Din's mind, too.
Grogu made a happy noise snapping you out of your thoughts as you watched him pick up little things such as flowers and pebbles with the force. A small laugh escaped your lips.
“Good job, little guy!”
The child made more noises of excitement and happiness, and you felt complete. The only thing missing was Din beside you.
You’d been too preoccupied to notice, but Din had been watching you and Grogu from the ship. He’d gotten up to get some water, too stubborn to bother you for something so simple, and noticed that you were outside.
Din felt his heart beat faster in his chest as he watched.
Why’d you have to be so cute?
He wondered if you knew that he thought about you in this way, but he was leaning towards no.
The wind tugged at the edges of your blanket as your hair blew softly in the wind, and Grogu was still mindlessly wandering outside with your company.
It was astonishing how something so simple made him feel so many things.
Quietly, he made his way back to bed to rest, silently wishing you’d come and dote on him so he could catch a glimpse of your face again.
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“Hey, you.”
Your soft voice woke Din out of his sleep, and the gentle touch of your hands on his shoulder made his heart flip.
“You’re here…” he grumbled as his gloveless hand came to touch yours. You felt your cheeks heat up slightly and you let out a hum of acknowledgment.
He’d never done that before. Especially not with his gloves off.
It took all your strength to pull your hand away from his. You held up a small glass bottle.
“Medicine,” you announced softly. “It’ll help you feel better.”
“Don’t need it.”
You sighed and shook your head with a smile.
The stubbornness of this grown man, you thought.
“I’m going to leave this here in case you need it, then. Rest up, Mando.”
Mando.
The nickname made him perk up for a moment; he loved hearing your voice. He watched you quietly leave again, but he wished that you’d stay.
Your touch was so warm. Again, he found himself wondering if you knew what you were doing to him.
Din had been…testing the waters recently, so to say.
He was trying to see if you noticed the subtle things he did or said. Then, he would study you carefully to gauge your reaction. It was never anything super forward or out there, but he’d been trying in his own way.
At first, he started standing a little closer to you when there was space for him to be further. Just to see. He wouldn’t move away if you stepped into his space.
One time, he even placed his hands gently against your waist while trying to move past you. He noticed that when he did that, your cheeks went rosy.
Did you like when he did that? He desperately wanted to know.
Then his tone when speaking changed too.
He was reserved when you first came into his life. Very stoic and independent. He’d mostly nod to acknowledge what you said, but slowly and surely, he started to break.
Din reflected on that one time he slipped up and called you mesh’la, but luckily, you didn’t notice.
The growing ache in his body pulled Din away from his thoughts. Reality was so much worse than his fantasies with you in it.
Hesitantly, he reached over for the bottle of medicine you left. He was admitting defeat; this fever was awful.
Skimming over the instructions printed on the back of the glass, he lifted his helmet ever so slightly and downed the bottle.
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After preparing dinner for both you and Grogu, as well as another bowl of soup for Din, you heard babbling and squeals coming from where the Din was resting.
Glancing back at the table where you last placed the little green child to sit, you noticed he was missing.
“Sweetheart?" you asked softly, calling out to the child.
You walked into where Din was sleeping earlier, but he was up now. He was sitting upright and playing with Grogu. You sat on the edge of the cot with a warm smile, catching the attention of both Din and the kid.
“You’re up,” you said with surprise. “Feeling better?”
“There you are.” Din’s voice sounded slightly slurred through the modulator, the medicine clearly working its magic. He tilted his head and looked directly at you. “I like when you’re here.”
Your eyes widened. Was this just the cold medicine talking for him, or were your suspicions right?
“Din," you asked. “Did you take the entire bottle?”
“Yes.”
“You’re only supposed to take, like, half of that…”
“Oh.”
“Are you feeling alr–“
“You’re really pretty.”
You froze as his words interrupted yours.
Surprise was written on your face as you blinked. He let out a small laugh, clearly delirious from the medicine.
“I like when you stay, cyar’ika.”
Your heart was thumping against your chest. You couldn’t help but wonder again if he was truly out of it from the medication or if he was just loose around the edges right now.
Perhaps the medicine was simply blurring his inhibitions, making it easier for the truth to slip out.
After a few more moments of silence, you found your voice.
“You took a lot of medicine, Din.”
“I did, didn’t I?” he replied.
His helmet was tilted slightly, but you could tell he was looking right at you. You averted your gaze to the child who was babbling quietly in Din’s arms.
“So, by that logic, what you’re saying isn’t true. It’s just the medicine talking.“
“No, it’s true. I liiiike you.”
You had to hold back a laugh at the way he was talking, but you could feel your cheeks heating up more than ever.
“Okay, you need to lie back down. Come here, Grogu.”
You motioned the child towards you, unable to hide your smile. Grogu came waddling towards you on the bed. Gently, you scooped him into your arms and stood up, watching Din lie back down as he mumbled something to himself.
You looked at Grogu with a smile.
“What do you think, little one? Do you think he’s telling the truth?” The child babbled in agreement to your question, and you let out a breathy laugh. “Maker, you’re so cute.”
“Thanks. You’re cuter.”
You turned your attention back to Din.
“I was talking Grogu, but…you’re not so bad yourself, Mando. I’d like to see how much of this you’ll remember tomorrow morning, though.”
“Okaaaaay.”
And true to your word, you held him to it.
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Morning eventually rolled around.
You were up early making breakfast with the child by your side. He squealed suddenly, causing you to turn around, only to be met with a familiar tall, broad figure covered in shiny metal.
He sits down and his tone is normal again.
“Morning.”
“Good morning," you replied normally.
He didn’t say anything else, but...you didn’t like the silence. You wanted to ask him about last night.
However, in order to save whatever dignity he had left after that, you decided to hold off on any serious questions for now.
“How are you feeling?” you asked.
“Like I got hit by a speeder," he huffed.
Din looked over at you and suddenly, bits of pieces of last night came back to him.
“You’re really pretty.”
“I like when you stay.”
“I liiike you.”
He shifted in his seat.
“Did I…say something to you yesterday?” he asked.
You stayed silent for a moment before answering.
“You were extra affectionate last night,” you replied. It almost sounded like you were teasing him.
Din froze and he pretended not to remember. “…Was I?”
“Mm, very.” You gave him your full attention as you set breakfast down. “Nothing bad, though.”
He cleared his throat. “What exactly do you mean by affectionate?”
You bit back a smile as you replied, “Oh, you know. Wanted me to stay close, kept reaching for my hand.”
“...Right. I was sick.”
“Mhm.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
That was a lie, and a terrible one at that. Even with the helmet on, you could practically see him replaying the memories in real time.
“Did I say anything strange?” he asked carefully.
There it was – your chance to dig deeper.
“Depends on your definition of strange,” you replied with a shrug. “Honestly, most of it was sweet.”
“Sweet?”
“Well,” you began. “You told me that I'm pretty.”
He groaned, but you continued.
“You also said that I'm cute. Then you said that you...liked me.”
Another groan.
“And–”
“That’s enough.”
“It isn’t, actually.”
Din didn’t argue back.
“You were very honest,” you continued with a small smile.
“How honest?” His voice was low.
“Relax. You didn’t reveal any Republic secrets or anything.”
“You know that’s not what I’m worried about.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them, and silence settled between you. Din froze. You froze.
For a second, neither of you moved.
“No,” you said, breaking the silence. “I suppose it isn’t.”
Gone was the attempt to play dumb. Gone was the denial. The truth settled between you and him in the stillness.
“So,” you added, unable to resist. “The good news is that you were very polite about it.”
Din let out a deep sigh as he braced himself for your rejection. “And the bad news?”
You stared at him. For a moment, you couldn't believe he was serious. The way his shoulders had gone rigid. The way he'd already begun preparing himself for disappointment before you'd even answered him.
As if there was any world where you wouldn't want him back.
As if you hadn't spent months hopelessly, painfully in love with him.
Din thought he was about to lose you. Your teasing smile faded.
“The bad news is that you apparently only confess your feelings when you're running a fever. You couldn't have done this six months ago?"
He sat there silently, clearly not following.
You shook your head, letting out a breathless laugh. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to figure it out?"
You watched the exact moment your words registered. He shifted ever so slightly. You folded your arms across your chest.
"I was beginning to think I'd imagined all of it,” you said.
"All of what?" he asked.
"The staring."
"I don't stare."
"The hovering,” you continued. “And don’t forget the finding excuses to sit next to me."
"I—"
"The fact that every time someone flirts with me, you suddenly become the most unpleasant man anyone's ever met. I spent months trying to convince myself you weren't interested."
"Months?" His voice was full of genuine shock.
"Yes, months."
The word seemed to genuinely disturb him, as if the idea that you'd been wondering all this time was somehow unacceptable. You should have been his all this time.
"You knew?" he asked hesitantly.
You stared at him. "Knew what?”
“That I…you know.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Din.”
“Yes?”
"You wear a helmet."
"Oh."
"You barely talk."
"Oh."
"And your version of flirting is handing me things without making eye contact."
"Oh."
You pointed at him again. "Exactly."
He visibly relaxed. You took this opportunity to take a seat beside him. No distance this time.
“So you didn’t know?” he asked, turning to face you as you sat down.
You blinked.
“Do you have any idea how good I've gotten at reading you? You have one visible facial expression and it’s just…helmet. Of course I knew.”
“You did?” His head tilted.
"Din Djarin, you once spent three days fixing a door that wasn't broken because you didn't know how to ask me to stay in the cockpit with you."
The silence that followed was incriminating.
You sighed as you leaned against him, laying your head against his beskar-clad shoulder. He didn’t stop you.
"I was fixing the door," he told you.
"You were absolutely not fixing the door."
"I was.”
"It worked perfectly."
"It was making a noise."
"It wasn't."
"It was."
You looked up at him lovingly, and he looked down at you through his visor.
For a moment, all was still. All was quiet.
"...I guess this means I don't have to wait until I'm sick again,” he said, a faint hint of confidence returning to his voice. “Close your eyes.”
Your heart immediately began hammering. You searched his visor, as if somehow you'd be able to see the expression hidden beneath it.
Whatever you were looking for, you found enough of it.
Slowly, you closed your eyes.
Then there was the faint sound of movement as you felt him shift beside you, and a soft hiss of beskar.
Your breath caught.
And then...you felt it.
His lips pressed against yours.
Everything in the galaxy seemed to stop. He was yours. Warm and real and finally, finally yours.
The kiss lasted only a moment. It was just long enough to leave your head spinning, and you wrapped your arms around him to treasure the feeling.
When he pulled away, you were still sitting there with your eyes closed.
But when you opened them again, Din was already lowering his helmet back into place. However, this time, neither of you needed to say anything.
shit, idk if u write for din or not but nsfw weed hcs with him???
Of course I write for Mr. Djarin >:)
(gender-neutral reader, 530 words, nsfw, tw for obvious drug use)
Okay, if we're going with the strict 'helmet on' rule, then the only way to smoke with Din is to hotbox the Razor Crest's cockpit.
Din's not exactly used to having company, or company that he actually gets along with. So, when you suggest sharing a joint together, he surprisingly agrees to it.
You smoke, and he inhales the air floating around the cockpit. It's a solid plan, one that gets both of you more baked than you were intending to get.
Thank the Maker that Din's parked somewhere safe for the night...
You two are chatting away, talking about the last bounty that you caught together, questioning how long you want to work together for, yadda yadda.
As you talk, you notice that Din can't sit still. He keeps shifting about in his chair, propping one leg up, then putting it down. His hands flex, and he keeps rubbing the hairs on the back of his neck.
"You alright, Mando? Don't tell me you can't handle your weed," you tease him.
Din lets out a nervous chuckle as he attempts to sit in a comfortable position. "Yeah, I'm fine. Can't get comfortable, that's all."
"Maybe it's because you've got your armour on?"
"I always have my armour on."
"Exactly..." you sigh. "I know the helmet stays on, but you could remove the rest? Get comfortable, for once," you push.
Din seems hesitant, and mumbles a soft, "no," under his breath.
You know you shouldn't be pushy, but you also know that he'd be able to rest without complaining about his aching bones if he lounged about in his undersuit.
"Come on, at least try it," you urge. Getting up from your chair, you begin looking for the fastenings to his armour, and start by removing his thigh plates.
"Stubborn, aren't you?" Din laughs. He watches you undress him, even moving in his chair to allow easier access for you.
Soon, you're on your knees, pulling his boots off and leaving them in a pile with the rest of his armour. Your eyes look up to meet his hidden ones, and only then do you realise how... naked he is, despite still having his undersuit on.
Din's hands grip onto the armrests as he looks down at you, a pretty sight between his slightly parted legs. For a split second, you look away, and when you look back up at him, you're smirking.
"Oh... now I understand why you were so uncomfortable," you softly laugh.
Your hands confidently rest on Din's thighs, and he instantly realises what you've picked up on.
Din is rock hard, his cock pressed against the thin fabric of his undersuit. He's uncertain how long you've been aware of his awkward position for, but given how you're flirtatiously massaging his thighs, it seems you're far from disgusted.
"Do you always get like this when you're high?" you question.
Din pauses before shrugging, "sometimes."
"I understand," you nod in agreement. "And would you like some help with that?" you ask, gesturing to his erection.
Din pauses yet again, weighing out this turn of events, before he sheepishly replies...
I am looking for a din djarin x reader smutty fanfiction. It was something like din djarin was hired to protect the reader at a nightclub or something. He then eats a lollipop and it’s like sex pollen? He then has sex with the reader. I don’t fully remember but if you guys know this fic PLEASE send the link. Thank you!!!
summary: the mandalorian assumes you both have needs and asks if you would like to have sex. you are more than willing to accept his offer.
“Would you have sex with me?” The Mandalorian asks out of nowhere in the middle of two sharing a meal.
At first you don’t respond, you don’t know what to say. Your mind is wandering what what he just said did he really just say that or is this a dream did you miss hear him. You finally respond.
“You wanna have sex with me?” You respond.
“Well I figured you had needs and I had needs that we could both help each other."
"How do you know that I have needs." You ask. He’s quiet for a momen.
"Well I guess I assumed wrong."
"No, we can have sex."
There is a small silence between the two of you unsure of what to say. Is this really going to happen or is this just a strange comment he made?
"Go to my bed" he says in a dominating tone.
Right now?
You question in your head.
He wants to have sex right now?
You don’t question him you put down your stew to and get up and move to his bed. You lie down not sure what’s gonna happen next. You felt his presence walk around the ship he’s grabbing things he’s getting ready. He stops in front of his bed and goes to hand you something you look in his hand and it is your sleep mask.
"Put this on." he says.
You do what he says and put it to cover your eyes. Now you only see a small light through the blackness after a few seconds your whole vision goes black. You assume he has turned up all the lights in the razor crest you grow nervous not sure if he’s looking in the shadows.
"Mando" you whisper "where are you?" You hear him respond. He’s only a few feet away.
"I’m right here." He said.
"Tell me when you’re close to me and before you touch me." You say nervously. You don’t know what to think.
"All right. I am here. I’m going to take off your skirt now." he says "I’m moving my hands up slowly towards your skirt."
Then you feel his hands around your waist, touching your skirt, hooks his fingers around your skirt, and then around her underpants and push them down.
The feeling of his hands is almost too much to bear. Your skin is sensitive. You haven’t been touched in so long it’s making your body heat up.
As you become exposed his mouth waters beneath his helmet. He hasn’t had sex in so long. He’s unsure if he’ll even be able to perform correctly but right now as he stares at your cunt all he can think about is what his tongue would do to be on it right now.
He debates in his head whether he should takeoff his helmet, risk seeing him just to get a taste of your sweet cunt. He wants to so bad. He feels like he can’t control himself before he’s taking his hand, putting it on his helmet and taking it off.
You barely can hear what’s happening. You have no sense where you are what’s gonna happen or what Din is gonna do to you.
It excites you. You feel yourself get wetter and wetter thinking about it. You don’t know what’s happening until you hear a large clunk on the ground. You assume it’s one of his pieces of armor. He’s trying to get comfortable before he fucks you.
But then you feel his face his breath against yourself you gasp what is he going to do? Is he going to rub your pussy against his helmet? You’ve never had foreplay like this, but you’re up for it.
Out of nowhere you feel a thick, wet tongue lick your clit. Your body jolts. You weren’t expecting it.
Did he take his fucking helmet off? Did this man take his fucking helmet off to eat you out?
"Fuck" you say as he laps at your cunt. He does two more long, thick laps against your clit before his tongue gets quicker. Each lick to your clit is like an electrifying shock up your body.
"Fuck." you keep saying "Mando you feel so fucking good."
He has his fucking helmet off. He took his fucking helmet off to eat your pussy.
Your mind is wandering thoughts.
He really wanted to do this. That’s so hot.
It’s not long before you feel two gloved fingers reach your hole. As he feels the wetness dripping from you. He wants to say something. He wants to say that you’re so wet for him and only him. He wants to assert that dominance. But he’s not ready for you to hear his voice without this helmet so he just hum at your witness before he sticks two of his thick fingers in.
His tongue is still lapping at your clits while he starts fucking your pussy with his fingers.
You say "fuck" again. You don’t know how many times you’ve cursed but it’s been for too much but it feels so fucking good.
You’re hit with a pleasure of ecstasy. You feel so fucking good as you come and he doesn’t stop. He keeps licking and fucking you at the same time.
He can tell when your high is over and he retreats to his helmet on the floor.
You hear the scrape of the metal and know he’s picking his helmet up to put it back on. You feel his body make his way on top of you.
"Are you ready for me to fuck you?" He says nonchalantly. He just ate your cunt until you were seeing stars and now he’s just asking you calmly can I fuck you?
What is wrong with this man? Why are you fucking him? What is this? Will this put a strain on your relationship?
You don’t know what to think about all this. Right now all you can think about is how his thick cock is about to go in and out of you. If he fucks as good as he can eat you out you’re willing to beg for it.
"Yes." you respond. You’re just as nonchalant as him, but in your mind, your thoughts are racing you feel the weight of his cock against your cunt.
You feel him put his tip close to your hole. You feel the weight of it. You feel his tip collect your wetness. You let out a sigh. He starts push pushing in slowly you feel him trying to repress his groans but you hear them.
You never thought you would hear the Mandalorian sound so weak, but it’s your pussy that is making him feel this way. The Mandalorian slowly slides his cock inside of you.
It feels so good for him and for you. The Mandalorian is trying to hold back his groans and moans, but he’s failing you can tell you can hear them when he finally bottoms out.
He strokes his fingers against your cheek before he starts moving he fucks hard not fast but hard. It’s a good pace you recognize. He goes in and out in and out but each time he comes back he shoves his hips tight against yours.
"You feel so fucking good." you moan. You don’t care if you’re embarrassing yourself in front of him, he’s the one who asked if he could fuck you first and he fucking feels amazing.
Mando suddenly stops thrusting and you whine. At your slight disobedience Mando grabs you and pushes you on your hands and knees. He pushed your head down so it is against the pillow and the only thing that is sticking up is your ass. He then quickly inserts back into you with a hard and quick thrusted.
"Good fucking girl, letting me fuck you" He groans and you are caught by surprise. Usually Mando is not one to be vocal, however the feeling of your cunt has got him to spit out a few more words. He keeps jack hammering his cock into you.
You hum at his praise, enjoying the feeling of his body on top of you and his thrusting below.
"Fuck, this cunt is trouble." Mando mumbles to himself. It is so quiet you almost can't hear it but you do.
Do you have the Mandalorian whipped for you?
"Can I come in you?" The Mandalorian breathily. He’s out of breath.
"Yes, I'm on the pill." The minute you say yes he explodes inside of you. He comes hard inside of you and you can feel it. He grown so loudly. He’s not holding back this time. You hear him say you feel so good. He makes sure that he’s deep inside of you as he gives you his cum.
"I will get you a towel." He says calmly. The room is still dark, but you feel his presence in front of you. He stopped. He doesn't hand the towel to you. He’s just stopped in front of your body the top half of your body still covered, but your cunt is fully exposed.
Through Mando's night vision he stares at your cunt. Your Cunt that’s stuffed full of his cum. He wants to do nothing more than to take off his helmet again and lick his cum out it but for the first time tonight he restrains himself.
He’s already been reckless enough tonight, asking to fuck you, taking off his helmet to taste you and then fuck you and coming inside you.
Now he brings the towel to your body and wipes off any cum that has come out of you. He grabs your panties and puts them back on. Then he turns on the lights and tells you that you could take off your sleeping mask.
"We’re gonna go to hyper space soon. We need to go to another planet. Prepare."
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if i could reach for the stars, i’d give them all to you
The Mandalorian x Female Reader
Warnings/Contains: mentions of masturbation, impure thoughts, implied voyeurism, dirty talk, clothed!mando and naked!reader, fingering, finger sucking, handjob, unprotected sex (this is fiction but yours is not, wrap it), coming inside, very light canon-typical violence
Word Count: 6.5k
everyone’s favourite bounty hunter, in a piece that seemingly came out of the blue! (my apologies if there is any new-zealand-english in this, i started it on my phone) x
✦ pairing: evan mccone x fem! reader
✦ summary: you’re the running man’s undeniable crowd favorite. week after week, you keep viewers glued to their screens as you humiliate the hunters live on television, slipping through their fingers with a grin. evan mccone is beyond pissed. his frustration has followed you beyond the cameras, into places where the rules don’t matter, but even there, you stay one step ahead. this time, you don’t run. this time, you choose to play. after all, you didn't record your tape today.
✦ wc: 6.9k
✦ crossposted to ao3
✦ tags & warnings: 18+ only! minors dni!!! smut lololol! afab reader, consenting couple w/ complex dynamics, enemies to a situationship, choking, hair pulling, face riding, recording, size kink, teasing, blowjobs, reader in control ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), freaky lol, so sorry but the intro might be a bit long bear with me
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ author's notes: hehe freaky lil evan mccone fic lol i switch between referring to him as evan and mccone !!! this will have very complex dynamics, so if this isn't your cup of tea that's okay !!! please enjoy !!!
Growing up, your mother used to tell you that you were going to be a star. She would say it so casually, like it was a fact already written into the world. On mornings when the city still smelled of wet pavement and dust, she would crouch in front of you, wiping the dirt from your cheeks with her thumb, brushing your hair back until your face was fully visible. There, she’d say softly, as if revealing something precious. That’s the face everyone will remember.
She had a beautiful purple scarf and tied it around your neck. You've always loved that scarf. She would tell you that only royalty wore purple, so she bought it for that reason.
Once she was done grooming you, she would bring the broken mirror to your face. It's a broken, jagged line splitting your reflection into two, but if anything she thought it meant double the beauty. She said you have the face meant to be on television, but you would always laugh at her remarks because that's impossible. Co-Op City doesn't want to see scum on the surface, nevertheless be the center of attention. The people born in the dark were meant for it. You never thought you would be the center of attention either.
But things change, life happens, and it changes you too.
And your mother was right. You are a star.
━━━━ ✦ ━━━━
❝ This little minx has found herself trapped by the Hunters again! ❞
The booming voice belonging to Bobby T pierces through the city as you hear nearby people roaring at their screens. Doesn't matter where you are, you can always hear someone watching you. You can't tell if they're people cheering for your survival or screaming for your death. Either way, the attention is exhilarating.
It's day nine of The Running Man, and you really got yourself into some shit. You're in New York City and all eyes are on you as a camera follows you through the maze of an old shoe factory. Ancient machines are littered everywhere, making it easier for you to slow down the dogs chasing after you, but harder for you to identify a quick exit. Hunters are sniffing you as you squeeze yourself between different machines and quickly try to find your exit out of here.
You've really pissed the hunters off. It's been a game of cat and mouse, and you always weasel your way out. The Network coined the name Minx for your quick wit and beauty. Though, the one you've really pissed off is Chief Evan McCone. Your gun only has one bullet left. It would be a waste to shoot now, but all you can do is cut corners and slow the men behind you down.
It has been nine days of near misses and narrow escapes, of turning corners with your heart in your throat and laughter bubbling up anyway. You should hate this. The exposure, the danger, the way every breath could be your last.
But you don’t.
You like it.
All eyes are on you.
“Well, fuck.”
You hit a dead end. A large fabric dying machine blocks you, and you can't turn around. It looks like it's been years since it's been touched, but a pool of deep purple dye remains in the tub. You can hear the heavy footsteps of the Hunters behind you. Scanning for possible exits, you find a window high off the ground, but you could make it. You just need a spot to give yourself a lift. There was just enough space for you to kick yourself off, but just as you make the jump, you feel something tug at your hair from behind.
" Gotcha," a hot, raspy breath growls against your ear.
You know that voice. It's the voice that's been taunting you for days. It's the head dog himself. Chief Evan McCone. His leathered hands has a tight grip in your hair as you feel his nose take in your scent like a dog. His other hand sliding across your throat, toying with your mother's scarf that you have tied around your neck.
The camera swings in instantly, capturing the tense moment.
You grin.
“ Did you? ” you ask sweetly. You attempt to shoot at his foot, missing, but unknowingly shooting a loose pedal on the machine.
The hundred year old hunk of metal roars to life with a violent screech, belts spinning wildly. Evan jerks back in surprise, grip loosening from your hair and his other hand pulling your scarf free from your neck.
You twist out of his hold, grab the front of his vest, and shove him straight into a dangling conveyor belt of the fabric machine. He tries to grab at you again, only to stumble backwards. Swearing, nearly face-planting into a pool of purple as the camera captures every second. His loss of balance, the scramble, the pure, undiluted rage, and most importantly, the purple pigment smudged across his face and uniform.
The crowd goes wild.
You blow him a kiss.
“Smile for the camera,” you say, as you make your jump towards the window.
❝ AND JUST LIKE THAT THE MINX IS OUT ! ❞
You disappear into the city beyond the factory as Bobby laughs himself hoarse and Evan McCone’s furious curses echoes behind you.
Another escape.
Another humiliation.
You wish you could know what his expression was under that mask.
━━━━ ✦ ━━━━
A few hours have passed and the sun finally dipped below the city line. You checked into a hotel outside of the city. It's a shame. With this amount of money, you wish you could be in a penthouse overlooking all of New York City, but instead, you're in a more cozy hotel with just a view from afar. It will do though. You're still living the dream.
Even though there are five ruthless men hunting you down along with the rest of the nation. At least the hunters are hot. At least four of them are. You have yet to see what the one who really matters to you looks like, but you like the mystery. The suspense. The tension. It's all so thrilling.
Evan McCone has made it apparent that you are the one that's really pissed him off. You like it when he plays rough. You love the attention, as fucked up as it sounds.
You are still shocked that you've managed to make it nine days. The first contestant died in no time, tips from the public. You haven't heard from the other one quite yet, but you don't focus on him. You're only focused on your survival. Your performance is everything to you. You don't know what your long term plan is. You don't have the luxury to look too far ahead, just to try to make it through the moment.
There are perks to the Running Man despite the ever looming presence of fear and death. For instance, a bath. You would never have the pleasure of soaking yourself in sweet jasmine scented water and bubbles until now. After soaking away your stressors, dry yourself off, and slip into the most darling silk pajamas.
With the amount of money you have now, you've been indulging in a few luxuries you've always wanted, as long as it could fit into your bag of course. It sounds so foolish, but you love this feeling. The attention from the thousands of people rooting for you and the ability to treat yourself after all the years you've been battered and bruised by Co-Op City.
You rifle through your belongings. You reload your gun with bullets. Definitely don't want to miss a shot again. You slide a thigh strap on and holster your gun. As you go through your things, you find your camera. You still have to record yourself for the day. It honestly slipped your mind, but you still have six hours till midnight. You deserve just a few more moments of peace.
The least you could do is enjoy the view before you have to return to your duties. As you walk to the window, you pull the curtains a little to give yourself a little bit of privacy. The city lights call for you, like a city made of diamonds. How you long to live in a beautiful city of jewels.
The hair on the back of your neck stands as you feel a shift in the air.
You turn around.
You're now frozen.
A six foot five figure looms over you. He's shielded in leather, deep army green, shadows clinging to him. It's no other than Evan McCone. The lap dog of the Network. He is silent, controlled, anger practically radiating off of him as he just stands there. He wears his usual uniform. Face covered, but you can sense exactly what he feels.
You look at his fingers, exposed from his leather gloves. There is a little bit of purple underneath his finger nails.
“I think you look better in green than purple,” you laugh, your fingertips grazing your holster.
His jaw flexes, “You think this is fucking funny?”
Next his fist clenches, “You embarrassed me. On live.”
“It's just for the show. No hard feelings” He literally wants you to die. The least you could do is have a little fun.
“Did I really hurt your feelings? Damn, you really are just a sad little dog.”
Oh, you're pissing him off. He steps closer. Too close. The tension crackles, sharp and unmistakable, and you hate that part of you thrills at it. Hate that your breath catches, not just from fear but attraction.
You pull your gun from your holster. You are cautious but ready. He's still a few feet ahead of you, but you can't tell what his intentions are. You point directly at his chest, so this time you won't miss it.
There have been moments before where he had his hands wrapped around your neck trying to squeeze the life out of you. Moments where his fingers tangled in your hair, grip brutal and possessive. Violence has always been his language. But this. This feels different. Quieter. More intimate.
“Don’t worry,” he says, voice low, measured, like he knows exactly what’s racing through your head. “I won’t kill you.”
Your grip tightens on the gun.
“There are no cameras,” he continues with a scoff. “It’d be against my contract to kill you off-screen.”
You let out a humorless laugh. “You couldn’t give a single fuck about your contract.”
His mouth twitches. “You’re right.”
He moves again, slow and deliberate, until he’s right in front of you. Close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off him, see the way his eyes drag over your smaller frame. The black lace and satin catching the low light was like a provocation. Something seeing on display like this feels personal as if this was a special surprise just for him. His eyes are drawn towards your thighs, but he quickly snaps away.
“Killian’s taken a liking to you,” he says. “And I don’t know what he’d do to me if I killed you. Especially without an audience.”
Your stomach twists. You can feel heat spread throughout your body. The heat flushes your cheeks to your necks to even your thighs.
You roll your eyes, even as your pulse skips a beat. “I don’t give a fuck about that creep.”
Something dark flickers across Evan’s eyes. Approval, maybe. Or irritation. It’s hard to tell. His face is still covered.
“Careful,” he murmurs. “You might miss your shot again”
You don’t look down. “I will shoot. Don't fucking test me.”
He's silent. Reading you. For a moment, neither of you move. The room feels too small, the air too thick. Your gun is still raised, but he doesn’t try to take it. He doesn’t even look at it. Instead, his eyes stay locked on yours. You can't read his eyes underneath his tinted sunglasses, but you can feel his fierce gaze despite the dark colored lenses.
“You enjoy this,” he says with amusement. Not an accusation. An observation.
Your jaw tightens. “Enjoy what?”
“Being chased. Being watched.” He leans in just enough to make your heart stutter. His breath was hot. “Being untouchable.”
You swallow. “And you hate that I am.”
“Maybe,” he says. A smile creeps underneath his mask, “Or maybe I just hate that you’re winning.” He pulls his sunglasses off his face and slides them into his pocket. McCone has signaled something within you. That he is staring straight into your soul. No words needed to be exchanged for you to know what he is trying to do.
Your finger hovers near the trigger. His presence is a threat, a temptation, a promise of violence wrapped in restraint. You should fire. You should run. But instead, you hold his gaze.
This isn’t about killing one another.
Or Killian.
Or even the game.
It’s about control. And neither of you is willing to give it up.
Like a shadow, he covers you. His large figure looks over you as you maintain your composure. You keep your gun pointed at his abdomen. Evan's leathered hand grabs your gun, lowering your arm to the side. He is closer than ever, and you are still. You haven't moved an inch, but you don't want to submit to whatever mind game he is playing with you. His other gloved hand traces the sides of your neck as he leans in to take in your fresh scent. Oh, he secretly loved it. Seeing you in a submissive state, easily accessible to him. Not to mention you're practically giving him a little show. Your satin set drapes over your figure beautifully and temptations taunt him. You feel leather wrap around your neck. Not enough to choke you, but enough to signal to you his dominance.
“What do you want from me, Chief?”
“This is me making sure you understand the consequences of fucking with me.”
“Are you that pissed that I've ruined your shot a few times?”
“No, I want to remind you who is being chased and who is running,” McCone's face is practically hovering over yours. Your lips could touch if it weren't for the mask covering his face. He tries to nudge his head closer to yours. You can feel a bit of warmth between your legs as you feel leather travel up and down your thigh. Honestly, the fact that he wants you dead makes the moment hotter. His head dips, enough for his masked lips to graze yours. How could such an aggressive and violent man be capable of something so soft. That is when the fire blazes inside you, and you enter fight mode. You wind your head back and launch it forward, head butting him with all your strength.
“You stupid bi-” McCone is cut off from you taking your gun and slamming it to the side of his head, knocking him out.
Your heart races with adrenaline as you look at the Chief hunter at your feet. You feel alive.
The logical next action would be to pack up your things and run, but no. You have the perfect opportunity to show McCone who is in power here. You grin as you grab your camera and some rope.
━━━━ ✦ ━━━━
Evan stirs in his sleep, slowly waking up to a pounding headache. He can't seem to remember exactly where he is because his memory is hazy. He opens his eyes and notices he's only wearing his black turtleneck and leather trousers. He finds his coat and equipment neatly folded in the corner of the room. He scans the rest of his surroundings and recognizes the hotel room immediately. He jolts only to find his hands are bound to a bed.
He hears a chuckle break the silence in the room. In front of him is you, emerging from the bathroom brushing your hair.
“Hello there, sleepy, you weren't out for long,” you chime with a sly smile on your face.
“What the fuck is your problem?” McCone immediately snaps at you, thrashing against his restraints.
“What's my problem?” You mock him, “you’re the one who broke into my room and tried to corner me. I’m just returning the favor.” You creep to sit between his legs, admiring the work in front of you. McCone is pissed. He's enraged, but also something deep inside him desires you. He felt something stirring deep in his leather trousers, enough to give him a little discomfort.
“Untie me,” he growls.
You lean in just enough that he can feel your presence, your warmth, the quiet confidence rolling off you. “And ruin the moment?” you murmur. Your hands steady yourself on his thick, leather cladded thighs.
His breath shifts. He hates that you notice.
His eyes darken, something dangerous flickering there. “You’re playing a risky game.”
You lift the camera into his view, letting it catch the light. “Funny,” you say as you bring yourself to straddle him, “That’s exactly why I signed up for The Running Man.”
His breath is thick and hot as he watches you spread your smooth legs across his crotch and slowly lower yourself on his now apparent length. For a long moment, neither of you speak. The air between you is thick, charged with things neither of you wants to admit out loud. Anger. Curiosity. Desire.
Evan pulls subtly at the restraints again, not to escape, just enough to remind you how strong he is. His eyes are filled with a hunger that is dying to be fulfilled now. His pants progressively grow tighter as he feels you slowly roll your hips on his own.
You don’t flinch. Instead, you smile. And that’s what gets to him most. That beautiful, dazzling smile that has the entire Network and nation in a trance.
Because for the first time since he started hunting you, Evan McCone isn’t sure whether he wants to break free or stay right where you’ve left him. You bring your face close to his mask, your hands toying with the edge of his neck. You slowly slide the mask up past his chin, and you lean in to plant a little kiss on his neck.
“I am going to give you exactly what you want, and you're going to give me what I want,” you say as you position the camera on yourself.
“Holy fuck,” Evan groans as he realizes exactly what you're doing. He bucks his hips and thrashes, but he unintendedly grinds his hardened cock against your clothed pussy. His fight and refusal is in vain though because McCone wants to see whatever sick plan you have cultivating, "You're fucking insane."
“And you like it.” You’re right, and he knows it. Something about this—about you—scratches at an itch he didn’t know he had. The tough, adrenaline-junkie Chief Evan McCone has chased danger his entire life, lived for the rush of the hunt, the finality of a kill. But this is different. This is a hunger a kill can’t satisfy.
You turn on the camera and immediately slip into your award-winning smile, the one the audience knows by heart.
“Good evening to all my Running Man fans,” you purr, voice smooth and playful. “I thought I’d give you a little fan service tonight. You’ve all been so patient.”
You say with a suggestive smile as one strap to your silk top slowly slides off your shoulder as if it was on queue.
"But first, I want to introduce you to a very special guest of today's live stream!" You spin the camera toward the bed. Just long enough to catch the unmistakable sight of a bound, masked figure. Then you quickly snap it back to yourself. "That's, right! It's everyone's favorite hunter, Chief Evan McCone"
A low groan sounds from behind you, part disbelief, part humiliation. Evan’s chest rises sharply as reality crashes in. The Network’s prized enforcer, reduced to a prop in your show. The crowd’s darling Minx once again turned the tables, live and unfiltered.
"And tonight I am going to give all of you a little show." You give the camera a little wink and a kiss. "To show each and every one of you all, what happens when you try to fuck with me!"
You return your attention to McCone. His eyes are filled with anger, want, and helpless fascination. You begin to grind your hips against his, getting his cock painfully harder than it was before.
“Let's see what I can get done in just ten minutes”
You lift the edge of his mask again, just enough to reveal his mouth. Your fingertip traces the line of his lips, slow and deliberate, feeling the roughness of silver stubble beneath your touch. He looks unguarded like this. Human. You imagine he rarely has time for something as trivial as shaving when every waking hour is spent chasing you. You wonder what scars are underneath that mask of his.
“You know,” McCone mutters, voice rough, “I’ve been on a lot of television. But nothing like this.”
You smile against his throat, lingering there just long enough to make the point before pulling back. “Don’t worry,” you say lightly, tapping the mask into place. “I’ll keep this on. I like the mystery.” Your eyes glint. “It makes it more exciting.”
Evan exhales slowly. The mask doesn’t concern him. Killian and the producers will blur whatever they want, carve the footage into whatever spectacle suits them. Honestly, they probably wouldn't air it considering how he's involved. Some sick freak editor is going to have a fun time watching this over.
He wishes he wasn't tied up at least. If he wasn't so intoxicated by your body, he would be thinking of a plan of how to get back at you. How to break free and tame the little minx that has the nation and Network wrapped around her finger.
“I can't imagine a leather pants and a black turtleneck would be comfortable in this situation,” you tease, your hand rubbing his bulge, begging to be free from the leather trapping it. He twitches under your touch.
You smirk. You have the most dangerous man in the world, melting from your touch.
“You hate this,” you murmur, your fingers digging into his cock, “almost as much as you want it.”
His jaw clenches. “Untie me,” he growls again, but the words lack conviction now.
You flash him a smile.
Instead, your fingers hook into the fabric of his turtleneck. You don’t bother being gentle. The fabric strains, then gives with a sharp rip, the sound loud and final in the quiet room. You pull again, tearing the shirt just down his chest, exposing skin that’s been hidden beneath bulletproof vests and authority for far too long. The restraints keep him helpless as the cotton peels away, ruined and discarded. Your nails trace the many scars that cover his deliciously muscular body.
“Oops,” you say lightly, almost mock-sweet. “Sorry.”
“Don’t,” he mutters. He didn't care too much about the shirt anyways. He has plenty of others.
His breath is heavy as you begin to kiss his neck. Your soft lips move from his neck down to his chest. Your tongue gives his chest a swift lick as you lift his shirt and drag your nails at his scarred abs. His happy trail leading to his covered cock is a beautiful sight. Your fingers make way to the zipper of his pants. Ever so slowly, you pull the zipper down and grip his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear. You begin to kiss it through the cloth. McCone thrusts his hips into your lips craving for more. His breath is uneven and needy yet filled with frustration.
“Fuck,” Evan pants, straining instinctively against the restraints, breath coming fast and uneven. His body reacts despite himself, tension coiling tight beneath your touch. “You’re going to have to lift the mask,” he growls hoarsely. “It’s getting too damn hot.”
You consider him for a moment, eyes flicking to the mask as his breathing stays uneven.
Slowly, deliberately, you hook a finger beneath the fabric and lift it just enough to free his mouth. Cool air hits his skin and he exhales sharply.
“Fine,” you murmur, voice low and amused. “But that mouth doesn’t get freedom for nothing.”
His lips part, still catching breath, eyes dark with want and frustration. He swallows, clearly understanding the terms even as he resents them.
“You’re unbelievable,” he mutters. You slid your silk bottoms off revealing your black, lacy panties. McCone's mouth waters at the sight of it. You crawl towards him and place both of your legs on either side of his head, your thighs pressing against him, and your hands holding onto the headboard to keep you balanced. You can feel his hot breath hitting your clothed pussy.
“Eat me out,” you coo sweetly.
“Oh. Fuck.” His cock twitches.
In an instant, his head thrusts forward and begins to lick at your folds through your panties. His spit soaks the thin material while his tongue attempts to push it to the side. Your part your panties to the side and push your pussy onto his mouth, his stubble scratching against your inner thighs as you squeeze his head.
“Fuck, you're so good,” You moan, looking towards the camera. You give it a seductive wink and bite your lip, "Who knew Chief can eat pussy so good".
In retaliation, he softly bites at your thighs. "Shut up," he mutters before he begins to suck your clit. You begin to cry and shake in an instant. Your moan makes his cock twitch and fights at his restraints. He's loosened them enough to move his wrist, but not enough for him to be able to grab you. You rock your cunt against his face while his tongue slides between your folds and into your pussy. His tongue darts in and out of you, and it makes your pussy slick with his spit and your juices.
“You are so fucking wet,” McCone moans into your pussy. The sounds of your moans while he unravels you with his tongue is encouraging him to go deeper. You’ve never felt pleasure reach deep within you like this. It’s almost enough to cloud your judgement. A part of you just wants to fuck him on the spot. You reach over to grab the camera and point it at the tongue working against your pussy filming him collecting every droplet of sweet juice you give to him. Now you are soaking. His mouth and jaw are covered in your slickness.
“Give them a show, Chief,” you grab the back of his head and push it deeper into your cunt, his mouth suctioning to your pussy.
Evan grunts and moans wanting to get you to cum all over his face. Show everyone that he's bringing you to the edge. He's rough now. Slurping and nibbling at your cunt as you continue to grind into his mouth.
It’s addicting to know he’s under you. He is not the one in control of your pleasure. You are. “Oh fuck—yes—right there” You are shaking, barely holding it together as his tongue switches from licking your clit to fucking you. You raise the camera to show your face, wanting to capture the look of you cumming on the Network's most prized hunter.
“Keep fucking going, McCone, I am going to cum” You moan, thrusting your head back. He growls on your pussy and thrusts against you. Hearing his name like that was enough for something dangerous to come out of him. He loved it, and he wanted to hear more. “Say my real fucking name while you cum on my face,” he says as he starts sucking on your clit hard.
That tipped you over the edge. “Evan!” You cry, shaking as your orgasm rips through your body. You feel a pool of wetness and heat coming from your pussy, soaking him as his tongue continues to lap at your sensitive cunt. He is still sucking and toying your pussy as you ride your orgasm on his lips. Your hand is twitching, and you can barely tell what all you managed to film.
“Oh, Chief,” you purr as you move from his face to now sitting on his rock hard cock. You peel your panties off and smear your slick pussy on his covered cock. You look down with amusement to see the stain of pre-cum his dick has been leaking while you sat on his face. You look back at him. Your eyes ignited with desire. His lips are red and burning as he looks at the hot, messy display in front of him, and he loves every second of it.
You lean in for a sloppy kiss, fueled with passion. You film him kissing you back, his tongue fighting yours for dominance, tasting your juices on his lips as you do so.
“Tell the people how much you love this pussy,” you moan on his lips. His teeth catch your bottom lip, biting down hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs. It’s hard. He reinserts his dominance flaring, a reflex from a man who isn’t used to being bound. You pull away and quickly grab his jaw, reminding him you’re the one in power here.
His jaw flexes beneath your hand and he snarls.
You lean in just enough to make the message unmistakable. “If you touch,” you murmur, “it’s because I let you.” You also check the amount of time left to record and you only have a few minutes left. That shouldn’t be an issue though. You just want to hear him beg for it.
“If you want me to suck that dick of yours, I am going to need you to tell the camera.” You grin. It is his time to shine. He is an actor after all. You did him a favor and pulled his mask back down.
“Fuck—” Evan swallows hard, jaw tightening as he fights the words even as they claw their way out of him. His shoulders tense against the restraints, muscles flexing uselessly as if strength alone might save him.
“I fucking love eating out your pussy,” He forces out, his words sharp with desperation and humiliation as his eyes avoids contact with the camera pointed at him. “Please,” he bucks his hips and shakes against his restraints, his cock clearly begging for more friction against your wet pussy. “Just— fucking touch me already.”
His chin lifts as if he’s trying to reclaim some shred of authority even while he’s asking. He hates this—hates how badly he wants it, hates that you’re the one making him say it.
“God, that was so hot,” You bite your lip as you pan the camera down to where his bulge meets your pussy. You felt so small on top of his big figure, yet you felt so powerful. Letting him know that right now, he is your bitch. You free his cock from his underwear, and your pussy practically drops at what you see. An amused hum leaves his lips, and you know he is smirking underneath that mask. Evan McCone has such a big dick. It’s thick and craving for touch. His pre-cum dribbles from the slit on his cock.
“You think you can take it all?” He teased you. You wrap your hand around his cock, but it doesn’t even fully cover the circumference of his dick. Damn, he is big.
“Holy shit. You are so big,” you pan the camera to his dick as you begin to stroke it. He grunts, thrusting his hips into your hand. “But I will make it fit.”
“I want to get every second of me sucking your dick on camera,” you look at him with an almost innocent look. He loves it, he can’t lie. His ego is inflated because he knows he has the body of a God and is blessed with an incredibly big dick. It twists something dark and dangerous inside him. Because even as his pride burns at the loss of control, another part of him revels in watching you, in feeling your desire sharpen around him like a blade.
McCone’s loud groans echo through the room as you lick the slit of his cock, savoring the taste of his salty pre-cum. It almost tastes leathery. You press his cock against your cheek. The visual girthy cock next to your soft, delicate face makes him utter a noise you’ve never heard of before. You playfully slap his dick against your lips, your tongue occasionally licking it as you do so. Seeing you like this makes him feral. He pulls at his restraints, his knuckles turning white from digging his fingers into the palms of his hands.
“Suck it”
In an instant, you are running your tongue up and down his length while one hand jerks the base of his cock. Your attempt to record the entire thing is quite sad because you are too focused on giving him attention.
“You think you can fucking take it all?” To which you respond with a mischievous smile. You love a challenge. Your lips kiss the head of his cock before sliding his girth down your mouth. Spit dribbles down your mouth and pools at the base of his cock as you take in as much as his cock as you can. You suck, entering a rhythmic state as you look at him with lustful eyes. You love this. The crude sounds of him trying to suppress his moans and groans. It’s pitiful really, seeing how easy it is to have him unravel. You’ve given up on the camera. It’s fallen from your grasp and now lays on the bed, getting a clear shot of the sheets instead of any of the action.
A flurry of curses leave Evan’s lips as he thrusts his dick into your mouth. Something snaps. One of the restraints gives way under the strain of his wrist, rope coming undone just enough for him to pull free.
You don’t even realize it until it’s too late. Fuck, is he going to free himself?
Instead of the sound of another restraint snapping, you hear an amused grunt. His hand comes down fast, fingers threading into your hair, gripping tightly as he behinds to fuck your mouth.
“Take my big dick—oh fuck—you’re such a good slut” His dick is sliding in and out your mouth at lightning speed. His powerful thighs pounding into your mouth, obscene moans and noises leaving your lips as tears begin to form at the corner of your eyes. Your pussy gets wetter as his praise and cursing.
You feel him let go of your hair—not to escape, not to untie himself—but to grab the fallen camera. He lifts it, filming you getting face-fucked by his large cock. It was a beautiful scene for him. Seeing tears roll down your cheeks as his dick ruthlessly fucks your mouth. Your top is now only half on, exposing just enough breast to tease the camera, and now you’re using both of your hands to pump the base of his dick while you suck on his head.
“That’s it—fuck—,” His legs are spread wide, his muscles flexing from restraint. You give a teasing lick to the sensitive vein on his cock, and it sends him spiraling. You quickly pop his dick out of your mouth and begin stroking it quickly.
“Fuck—I’m cumming,” A guttural moan erupts from his throat as his thick, warm cum shoots from his cock. You continue to pump his cock and tilt it towards the exposed part of his chest, cum shooting everywhere. He’s truly made a mess, but you figured being a hunter and all he probably doesn’t get much time to have sex nonetheless jerk off.
“Shit,” He groans out of anger. His cum is spread all over his chest and on your hands. You quickly snatch the camera from him and point it at the beautiful display in front of you. His exposed chest was covered in sweat and a mixture of spit and cum. His cock is now soft, yet still large. His pants are undone, and his breath is heavy from having to orgasm while still being masked. You lean down to lick the sticky white substance from his chest, sucking your fingers while doing so. Seeing you suck the cum off of your fingers, feeds his ego even as it scorches his pride.
You turn the camera back on yourself. You’re disheveled, hair mussed, breath still uneven, but there’s a glow beneath it all that can’t be dimmed. From where he’s watching, it’s unmistakable. You look triumphant.
“I hope you all enjoyed a different kind of performance,” you say lightly, voice breathless from the dubious actions that just occurred, “that’s the end of my show. I hope you all learned your lesson! Don’t fuck with me! ” You bat your eyes and smile. Then the camera clicks off and you close it. The room falls still with only the combined breathing of you and Evan in the room.
“Bet you haven’t been touched in a long time,” you tease as you lift yourself off of him. You leave the bed to go to the bathroom and clean yourself off.
“You are a crazy bitch,” he mutters to himself.
Yes, he’s humiliated. The scene you’ve made of him, the way you’ve flipped the narrative and put him on display—it should enrage him. It does. But the anger is tangled with something darker, something he doesn’t want to name.
Desire. He’s almost disappointed that you didn’t do more, but you only had ten minutes.
“How many more minutes until you try to kill me?” you joke lightly. You changed into a baggy pair of sweats, ready to leave the comforts of your hotel to mail out your tape. When you step back into the room, the humor dies in your throat.
There’s a stranger in your bed.
At least you thought so for a second. Then recognition hits, sharp and disorienting. Evan McCone lies exactly where you left him. Shirt still torn. Pants still undone. The aftermath is still stark against his exposed skin. One arm remains bound to the bedframe, but his freed hand is clenched tight around his army-green mask.
And now he’s looking at you without it. He’s handsome. The kind of handsome that doesn’t ask for approval, that’s been carved out of years of violence and survival. Scars map his face like a history written in flesh. Each one telling a story he never bothered to soften. Lines crease his forehead, not from age alone, but from stress, command, and the weight of too many decisions made in blood.
You hate the way your chest tightens.
“It’ll last longer if you take a picture,” he scoffs, catching your stare. The corner of your mouth twitches.
“I hope you learned your lesson, McCone,” shaking your head as you begin to pack all of your things quickly. There’s no reason for you to stick around and have him kill you or at least get close to. You turn around and meet his chest. Your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp. He’s free.
“Lesson?” he murmurs. Still a disheveled mess, only now he’s free. His eyes are beaming with amusement as he backs you into the wall in one swift motion. The impact rattles through you. His leathered hands grip your hips, firm and possessive, pinning you there like you never left the hunt at all. His face is so dangerously close to yours. His hand grabs your chin, making you meet his eyes. Now you can see his beautiful eyes clearly. His lips crash into yours. A rough, messy kiss ensues. His teeth clash yours as his tongue fights for you to submit. His stubble scrapes your skin as he presses into you. You quickly push him away.
“So this is what it’s like to have you defenseless.”
“Don’t” you snap.
You don’t know the damage you’ve done or the mark you’ve left behind. You planted something in Evan McCone. A seed. A dangerous one. Want twisted with curiosity, hunger braided with defiance. The fire in you, the way you refuse to bend, has given him something no hunt ever could. This isn’t just about catching you anymore.
“You’re going to leave,” Evan says at last, voice calm, controlled. His dominance worn like armor. “And when you come back, I’ll be gone.” To see what could happen next. He just stares back at you. His silence makes you want to say something crude to get a rise out of him, but you think you’ve had enough play time for the day. Evan isn’t quite sure if he wants to pin you down and finish you or choke you till you pass out. Everything you say enrages him, yet entices him to continue to entertain your games.
“I hope I don’t get in too much trouble for sending the Network a sex tape,” you joke as you walk towards the door. Before you leave, you look back for just a second and smile at him. That damn smile. It's now permanently etched into his thoughts. He honestly wished he could slap it off your cheeky face.
“Right, Evan?”
He’s still standing there looking at you except now he’s fully dressed, mask still off. You can’t read his face. But there’s one thing obvious. Things are different now. Now you have to play the game even harder because Chief Evan McCone has made it his mission to follow your every move.
When you return from your short errand, he’s gone. Like a ghost, you feel his lingering presence.
Across the street, in the shadows, Evan watches your window. A lit cigarette in his mouth as he looks at the piece of fabric in his hand. It’s your scarf he swiped from you from your earlier altercation. He smirks, folds it carefully, and slips it into his pocket as he walks away into the night. He’s willing to play this Wicked Game with you, and in the end, he wants to win.
A wicked game between two forces that can’t seem to back down from one another.
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ author's notes: Y'all! I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS IS LOLOL !!!!! It's genuinely, been so long since I've posted a fanfic, so hopefully, I'll keep them shorter in the future (unless you like them longer heheh) !!! Most importantly, should I make a part 2 ??? feel free to dm requests or suggestions, would love to have mutuals <3 - with love, jaz
Eddie licks food he doesn’t want to share. If anybody asks he says yeah sure then licks the food and hands it to them. They usually will then decline in frustration at his childishness. However, during a dnd session, he was hoarding the oreos and everyone else knew not to ask cause his chocolate and cream-covered tongue would intervene. But you were new and didn’t know any better so you ask. “Eddie, can you pass me an oreo?” Everyone has a look of disgust knowing what the man would do next. He smiles mischievously and nods, “Of course.” He takes one out of the package, opens it up, and with the flat of his tongue licks it. He then closes it back up and hands it to you, “Here you go.”
You take it from him with no hesitation, “Thanks.” You open the cookie the same way he did, licking the cream off the cookie, and then eating the two cookies. You stare at him the entire time that you chew. Eddie’s heartbeat quickens. Weird. He liked weird.
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"He's not going to come in." You whispered in Logan's ear. Logan wanted to protest but your breath on his sensitive skin caused him to force out a breathy sign.
Logan almost felt ashamed at how much of an effect you had on him but he didn't care. It made him hard when you would so obviously brush your ass against his crotch. It made him hard when he saw you stab Wade in the shoulder in the Honda odsessy. It even made him fucking hard and feel pathetic at the same time when you asked him to push on his suit with the sleeves shredded off. And he complied which led you to this moment of you straddling him on Wade's couch.
"He could and he will never let me live this down." He said in his accent. You stood up from him and pull off your shirt revealing your breasts to him. Now you were fully nude in front of him and before you could even say anything he fell to his knees and pulled you closer to him by your thighs until your cunt was placed on his lips.
"Fuck Lo-" He started to lap feverishly at your cunt and you grabbed onto his hair to stabilize him and yourself. Both you and Logan were so entranced in the act you didn't realize another person had joined the room.
"My, my, my what do we have here?" You screamed and jumped as the voice of Wade filled the room. As you jumped you moved slightly out of Logan's grip, thinking he'd stop but he doesn't. He grabs you again and puts you closer to his mouth. "You guys both know that his bathroom is right there." Wade walks from the back of you to your front, seeing you fully exposed. "Like right there." He points to Logan's bedroom in their shared apartment. "What did our fight in the Honda mean nothing guys?"
"Don't act like you haven't done it in worse places." You respond.
"Get lost or actually do something useful asshole." Logan grumbles.
"Well if the old man insists." Wade moves around so his already hard crotch is aligned with your exposed ass. He then talks his gloved hands and reaches around the touch your tits. You moan out as your sensitive nipples catch on the rough material.
"Y'know wolfie, I think this was her plan all along." Wade announces and Logan pulls back. You whine as he stands before you and now you're is a sandwich between the two muscular and tall men.
"Probably, she's such a fucking slut. First time we fucked she begged me not to wear a condom." You dripped recalling the memory so fondly, but Logan acts like it didn't take that much convincing on his side.
"Dude she begged me to fuck her ass." Your eyes go wide as Wade reveals your secret that you'd be fucking him alongside Logan. Logan grows jealous and grabs your chin, and forces you to look at him.
"Huh funny you made it seem like that part of your body was off limits."
"W-" You're about to say something before Logan stops you.
"Ah, ah, ah, good girls don't speak. Now I'm going to claim what is rightly mine. My dick will make your little asshole forget about this scumbag's dick in the first inch inside." He shoves you from in front of Wade so you are bent over the couch. "Do what you want with her but don't get in the way of me."
"Alright Mr.Picky Pants."
Logan roughly pulls himself out of his suit so he is still in it but his cock is fully exposed. Wade admires it and starts to pull his out, stroking it to Logan and yourself. Logan spits on his cock and then takes his fingers and collects the wetness. He moves his fingers up so he can lubricate your tight hole.
"Now be a good girl, and stay still while you take it." He pulls you up by your hair so your back is against your chest "And don't act like a fucking virgin because I now know you aren't one." He lets go of your hair. He starts to push himself slowly inside you. He grabs you once again so your head is against his chest and he can whisper in your ear. "Fucking feel every inch inside of you." You moan out as he goes deeper, deeper, and deeper.
"Fuck Logan."
Wade hasn't moved any muscle in his body except his arm. It's like he's watching his favorite porn in real life. He moves closer to you.
"Wolfie you think you could ugh, release this." Wade grabs Logan's hand that's on your hair and roughly detaches the two. "Think this mouth needs to be occupied." Wade pulls you down so you are eye to eye with this hard and wet cock. You waste no time putting it in your mouth. "Fuck that's it." He moans behind his mask, grabbing your hair. Both men use you to their pleasure and your cunt is wet with it.
Logan becomes more forgiving and as he's close to his release, he moves his finger down to play with your clit. You moan into Wade's cock.
"I want you to come when I come, y/n." Logan grunts out.
"Hey l'm like three steps behind you guys." Wade complains.
"I don't care." Logan roughly responds. "I'm close so you're either coming with me or not coming at all y/n."
"Come in me, I'm so close Logan please."
"Alright fine I'll join you guys too since you seem so excited about it." Wade sarcastically says.
Your wave builds up and up, until you feel your orgasm crach into your body. After you feel the intensity of your own orgasm, you feel full in both your ass and your ass. In the midst of your orgasm, Logan came inside you and Wade came on you.
You all crashed on the couch, all being obviously tired. You grabbed the blanket next to you and wiped off the come. It was silent except for the heavy pants and Wade's voice.
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